Iron Man, Tony/Rhodey, no, that's MINE (2/2)
Tony pulls back, then, glaring, and grabs the front of Jim's undersuit. There's just enough loose material he can get a grip on it, and he drags--drags, what the hell--Jim out of the back room and into the R&D zone, where he pushes Jim down over the desk with the 3-D vector design projector and digs around in a drawer. He comes away with a condom, which makes Jim close his eyes--he remembers putting those damn condoms there, back when they were both working on upgrades to the armor until all hours of the night and Tony was only drinking himself halfway to oblivion.
Tony doesn't bother with lube, which makes Jim wonder if this is going to happen at all. It's been a long time since Tony could get it up enough to--
"Unhh."
"Yeah, what was that about me fucking anybody right now? Huh?"
Jim shoves back and braces himself when Tony pushes in a little deeper. It shouldn't be this good, not when he's pissed off and tired and Tony's so furious he might as well be spitting nails, but it's been so motherfucking long since he had this, since Tony could do this, and he holds onto the edge of the desk and just lets the rest of the world drop away.
Forget the armor. Forget the drinking. Forget the anger. This is what it used to be like when things were good; this is how Tony used to fuck when he got his mind set on an idea but couldn't make the pieces fit. Jim's used to needing to hold on for dear life with Tony, but this is what it was like when they were kids and they had nowhere to go but up.
Tony reaches around; the slick, smooth fabric of the undersuit sliding against Jim's dick is too much sensation to handle. He comes quick and hard and almost painfully, and maybe there's more heat against Tony's palm, but no dampness; these suits are waterproof but breathable, somehow, and they never stain from sweat. Richards definitely needs to patent these things.
But Tony's not done yet, and after a few minutes Jim's wincing. He drops his head onto the desk, grits his teeth; this isn't like when they were kids, because back then it didn't take Tony an hour to get off. This is still here, now, and by the time Tony finally squeezes Jim's hips and groans through his orgasm, Jim's shaking, pretty sure he won't be able to walk on his own for a while. Tony collapses on him, which pretty much seals the deal; Jim's not going anywhere.
"You can't," Tony whispers. "You can't go."
"Not a problem right now."
"No--I mean this." He fingers the undersuit, from Jim's shoulder to his wrist. "I mean you can't keep taking the armor. It's too dangerous."
Jim pushes up and turns his head, looking Tony in the eye as best he can. "You think it's more dangerous if I do it than if you do?"
"I think I care more if you get killed."
"That's for damn sure." Jim closes his eyes again. "Shit, I'm tired. You think Jarvis would get us a blanket if we asked nice?"
"I'll get you a blanket if you ask nice."
"No, you can fucking carry me to a bed."
"Okay."
They end up supporting each other, weaving their way up the stairs--and more stairs--and why the hell does this place have so many fucking stairs?--until they get to Tony's bedroom. This is like the old days, too, after a night out drinking and fucking, only there's no laughter as they collapse into bed. Jim peels off the rest of the undersuit and leaves it hanging over the foot of the bed, and he curls up on his side, facing away from Tony.
Tony spoons up behind him, wrapping an arm around his chest. "Hey," he whispers.
"C'mon, man, I'm tired--"
"Me, too. I just wanted..."
Jim looks over his shoulder, one eyebrow raised.
"You did good out there," Tony says, not meeting Jim's eyes. "You always do."
"I was wondering when you were gonna notice that," Jim says softly. He laces his fingers through Tony's; it's not that long before he falls asleep.